


Winners Both

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Monster of the Week, Romance, Safe For Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Dean should think twice before making a bet with you





	Winners Both

“I’m sorry,” Dean grunted, staring at his brother with wide eyes, “how many did you say?”

“The nest can contain anywhere up to seventy offspring,” Sam repeated, swallowing, “and we need to move quickly.” He shut the book, getting to his feet. “Before they grow too big to handle.”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I thought we had time, that they’d need to feed -”

Sam shrugged, grabbing for his bag and starting to shovel his possessions into it. “Yeah and we had time but it took us too long to find the next. These things are like Gremlins - they eat, they grow, they get more aggressive.”

You met Dean’s eyes, trying to gauge his reaction to the sudden urgency. “How big are they now?”

“Maybe the size of a domestic cat?”

“Can’t we call someone -”

“There’s no time,” Sam cut you off, passing you your machete, “we gotta gank ‘em before they’re big enough to leave the nest.”

Dean held up a hand. “What about the mom Gremlin? If she’s -”

“They die after birthing,” Sam threw back, already on his way out the door, “just come on already.”

A very small part of you wanted to gloat - the instances of local cats and small domestic animals going missing around a suburban area was originally brushed off by both brothers. They’d argued it was probably a serial killer in the making but you wouldn’t drop it. Eventually, they’d given in, agreeing to investigate as long as you promised to hand it off to the actual law if it was just a regular person doing regular crime.

The house at the center of the supernatural activities was a little condo in the middle of the town which just so happened to sit on top of some ancient burial grounds. It was precisely the thing that had drawn the Mogwai mother to the area, in conjunction with the copious amounts of dumb humans to feed on.

So far, the casualties had been an elderly woman and her twenty-seven cats that lived in the small house. The stench surrounding it was intense and you dragged your shirt up to cover your nose, ignoring Dean’s amused smirk.

“Still not dealing well with the smell of the job?” he teased; you flipped him off and took the lead. “I don’t blame you,” Dean continued, “I mean, being a girl and all.”

“Oh, my god,” you grunted, turning to face him, “what are you, Victorian? I could wipe the floor with you.”

“Guys,” Sam chided, “this is not the time for another pissing contest.”

Dean’s smile only grew and he puffed his chest out. “Sam’s just jealous of our sexual chemistry.” You pulled a face, shaking your head at him and turning away. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. If Sam’s gotta do this stupid chant to send them back to Purgatory, then we should see which of us can take the most of the little bastards out.”

“You really wanna bet on this?” Sam scoffed, glaring at his brother. You ignored him, climbing the porch steps to the front of the little house where the twenty-seven cats had lost their lives. “Dean, this isn’t a game -”

“No, no,” you interrupted, “it’s fine. If Dean thinks he can handle it -” Flashing him a bright grin, you withdrew your machete from the holster at your side. “Then he can try.”

The elder Winchester narrowed his eyes, the competition suddenly becoming serious. Sam rolled his eyes and moved to the front door, waiting with little patience for his brother’s games. “Fine,” Dean snorted, lifting his head. “Whoever loses buys the beer.”

You blinked at him, shaking your head. “I don’t even drink, dumbass,” you snapped. “No. If I win…” Pausing, you thought for a moment for something that would really piss Dean off. It came to you within seconds and you grinned widely. “If I win, I get to choose the music in the car for the next week.”

Dean’s expression changed to one of horror and Sam chuckled. “I don’t think he wants to take the risk.”

“There is no risk,” Dean snarled, “because I’m going to win. And when I do,” his sparkling green eyes fixed on you and you raised one eyebrow, waiting, “you owe me a kiss. Five seconds, tongue or no tongue but five seconds of lip-locking.”

Snorting with laughter, you held your spare hand out. “Deal.”

“You two are the worst people I know,” Sam muttered. “Come on, let’s go.”

*****

Sam’s estimate had been a little off the mark - the basement of the small house only contained around thirty of the Mogwai babies but it was enough to provide a challenge. They were asleep when the three of you creeped down into the darkness and Sam quickly set up on the stairs, providing a bottleneck for you and Dean to take the monsters out.

“Ready?” Dean asked quietly and Sam nodded, ready to perform the incantation to return the Mogwai to Purgatory. You held your machete ready, knowing as soon as Sam started, the creatures would stir. Each only was a little ball of compact muscle, around the size of a house cat, with thick spiny fur and gnashing jaws so large they jutted out of their mouths.

You kinda thought they looked like Gruffalos. If Gruffalo's were small and had an appetite for kitty cats.

Dean flanked your left side, both of you shielding Sam. “Aim for the head. Blind ‘em, behead ‘em, just do it quick.”

Sam lit the candles, pouring the ingredients into the large bronze bowl. “Te convocamos a abrir la puerta,” he started, keeping his voice low, “te convocamos a limpiar este lugar.” Your eyes dropped to the nearest Mogwai baby as it stirred and opened glowing orange eyes that focused on you.

“Here we go,” Dean muttered.

The Mogwai launched and you swung, cutting it down easily. “Fuck, the knives go through them like butter,” you realized, eyes widening as Sam’s spellcasting woke the rest of the basement. “Let’s go, Dean!”

It was chaos. Blood and gore splattered every wall and the Mogwai seemed to keep on coming. The bodies piled up on the floor - you and Dean were covered in scratches and teeth marks from the vicious little creature. Only two had made it past you toward Sam and they’d quite quickly found themselves ganked before they could hurt the younger Winchester.

“I almost got it!” Sam yelled, the wind picking up from nowhere like it often did with this kind of magic. “Keep going!”

Something in the darkness growled threateningly and the baby Mogwai started to retreat, a large shadow lumbering toward you and the older hunter. “Er, Sam?” Dean called, keeping his eyes on the movement as Sam started the last part of the spell. “I thought you said Momma bit the dust?”

Sam looked up - the Mogwai mother emerged from the dark, huge rows of teeth slobbering drool over the floor. Where the babies were cat size, the mother was roughly the size of a Great Dane and she did  _ not _ look happy.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, holding up your machete.

“Eyes!” Dean yelled.

The Mogwai attacked.

*****

Dripping from head to toe in viscous green fluid - Sam hadn’t mentioned that particular detail - and blood from both you and the creatures, you were surprised you were in almost a  _ good _ mood.

It may have had something to do with Dean losing the bet, managing to get himself knocked unconscious by one of Momma Mogwai’s big meaty paws. Eventually, you brought her down, just as Sam completed the incantation and sent every little beasty to Purgatory where they couldn’t hurt anyone except the other monsters that probably deserved it.

Dean was sulking, sitting in the driver’s seat. Sam took the passenger seat, managing to fall asleep through your gloating. And the tape deck boomed out the Disney “Best Of” tape that you’d had since you were nine years old.

Apparently, the Winchesters didn’t appreciate your rendition of “Part Of Your World”. You weren’t any kind of singer but it made you happy to enjoy the music and despite his grumping, you could see Dean  mouthing along with the words.

It was daylight when you reached the motel. Although sharing with the boys was the usual, you wanted nothing but a long shower and some personal time, so you booked a single, bidding them goodnight as you retreated to wash the grime off of your body. Mogwai left a particularly vile stench that most likely meant this sweater had seen its last hunt.

Dean knocked on your door around ten am, alone, before you’d even managed to get some sleep. Opening it, you frowned at him, wondering if there was something wrong.

“No, everything’s fine,” he insisted, smiling as he stepped into your room and you closed the door. “I just… Sam’s asleep and I can’t sleep and I was wondering if you wanted to get some breakfast.”

“Trying to sweet talk me outta playing the rest of the Disney cassette today?” you quipped; Dean laughed nervously, shaking his head.

“Not in the slightest. I’m honestly just hungry and wouldn’t mind the company.”

Eyeing him skeptically, you sighed and grabbed your coat. “Okay. But you’re paying.” Dean laughed, opening the door again and leading you out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

*****

Pancakes and bacon always went down a treat after a good hunt and with the way things were going for you, you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. Despite his loss, Dean seemed to be a pretty good mood too, leading to both of you joking and laughing over breakfast.

“How long you sticking around for this time?” he asked suddenly, looking up at you with a forkful of syrupy pancakes.

You shrugged, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bacon. “I dunno,” you admitted, “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it all that much.” Dean smirked, raising an eyebrow as he chomped on his mouthful and you paused, watching him for a moment. “Is this your way of telling me you’re bored of me, Dean Winchester?”

He swallowed, laughing and shaking his head. “Far from it, sweetheart. You make things -” His hand was under the table, suddenly touching your knee and warmth flooded through your entire body. “Interesting.”

“Was Sam really asleep?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“No,” he chuckled, leaning back in his seat, “I just wanted some time without my cockblocking little brother around.”

“So you’re trying to sleep with me?”

He laughed loudly, covering his mouth to try and not spit food at you. “Not subtle, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” you giggled, putting your knife and fork beside each other on the plate. “But I kinda guessed that you were after something.” Lowering your hand under the table, you covered his fingers with yours, smiling seductively at him. “Good thing I got my own room, huh?”

“Sam didn’t think you were interested,” Dean commented, his gaze darkening as you dragged his hand further up your thigh. “I mean, you don’t normally stick around longer than a couple weeks -”

“How long do you want me to stick around, Dean?” you whispered, leaning in across the narrow table; he mimicked the movement, his thumb rubbing over the inside of your thigh.

“Is forever okay?”

You smiled, lifting the hand still on the table and motioning to the waitress for the check. “I think we can work something out.” The server approached and you flashed Dean a grin. “I’ll get this. To make up for the Disney sing-along you’re going to have to endure.”

His face dropped. “Disney what-now?”

“Well,” you started, taking the bill from the waitress with a smile, “Sam just walked in for his own breakfast so it’s unlikely he’s going to give us ten minutes for anything and it’s a few hours back to the bunker -”

“Ten minutes for what?” Sam asked, dropping himself into the seat next to his brother. Dean’s hands instantly returned to his lap and his cheeks went bright red. His brother glanced at him, then you, noticing how you were trying not to laugh and Dean was trying to disappear into his seat. “You could have waited.”

“Dean thinks you’re a cockblock,” you stated.

Dean shrank down and groaned as Sam laughed. “Did he finally ask you out?”

“In a roundabout way,” you replied, finishing off your bacon. “We’ll see how he feels after six hours of Disney.”

*****

By the time you’d reached the bunker, the Disney cassette had repeated three times. On the third go round, Dean gave up, singing along to the greatest hits of your childhood, prompting Sam to laugh and join in. You crossed the city limits into Lebanon, banging out _“I’ll Make A Man (Out Of You)”_ from _Mulan_ and you were genuinely shocked that Dean knew all the words.

“So,” you muttered, leaning over the back of the driver’s seat as he pulled the Impala into the garage; Sam was already reaching for the door handle, “does this mean you’ll actually watch Disney movies with me?”

Dean chuckled, turning the engine off and looking back at you over his shoulder. “I would have done that before you subjected me to this torture.”

“C’mon,” you teased, poking his arm and laughing, “you loved every second of it.”

He grunted a non-committal answer, leaving Sam to laugh as he climbed out of the car and disappeared into the bunker. Dean took a little longer climbing out and you followed, already heading off toward the bedroom you’d claimed - you made it three steps before Dean grabbed hold of your arm.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you to face him. “There was something I forgot to do back at the diner.”

You raised one eyebrow, confused by the statement. “Oh?”

With a grin, Dean tugged you closer, cupping your face with one hand and sliding the other round his waist. Belatedly, you realized he was about to kiss you and butterflies erupted in your belly the second his lips touched yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you returned the kiss, sliding your tongue against his as he licked into your mouth, his hands moving down to grab your ass and pull you flush against him.

When the kiss ended, you broke away panting, looking into his gorgeous green eyes. “Hey! You lost the bet!”

“You comin’ to my room, then?” Dean asked, teasingly, his tongue tucked between his teeth. “Because there’s a few other things I forgot to do…”

“I’ll bet,” you giggled, pulling out of his hold. “Or not. Lead the way, Romeo.”


End file.
